


A Smudge

by 3RatMoon



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 06:30:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11572329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3RatMoon/pseuds/3RatMoon
Summary: Hadrian and Rosana are young and in love, but that doesn't mean Hadrian isn't a sub. /thumbsupemoji





	A Smudge

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO thanks everyone on mastodon for letting me whine about how long this took me to write
> 
> Unedited, because I will flip my shit if I delay posting this one more time

“Don’t you have to leave soon?”

Rosana’s voice carried over the sounds of bread dough slapping on the wooden countertop, mixing with the morning bustle of the Fish District to create a vague buzz that Hadrian was starting to think of as home.

Of course, though, his duty required him to leave home frequently, such as today.

“Yeah…” The junior Paladin came into the main room of the home he shared with his wife, padding and mail on and the two halves of his breastplate dangling awkwardly over his body as he tried to walk while also twisting to reach the straps to secure his armour.

When Rosana paused kneading the bread dough to look over her shoulder at her husband, her face broke out into a grin. “You look ridiculous.”

Hadrian snorted. “Gee, thanks, love,” he returned, stopping long enough to properly tighten the straps on one side of his plate. “I’m not running late, yet, at least. I just can’t linger, you know.”

“I understand,” Rosana answered, this time genuinely.

Hadrian felt a small twinge of guilt. They had been married almost a year, now. This cycle of together and apart was something they were quickly getting accustomed to. They wrote letters when they were apart (something Hadrian never did before he started going on missions but found to actually be one of his favourite things) and when they were together… they were together.

Maybe it wasn’t guilt, then. Maybe he just was going to miss her. He always did.

Hadrian blinked, and realized that Rosana was staring at him.

She smiled kindly. “You left Hieron for a moment there, my dear.”

“Yeah…” He blinked again. “Your lips are red.”

Rosana laughed. “Yeah, I painted them this morning!”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to, silly.” She was still smiling, an eyebrow quirked, and a heat rose up in Hadrian’s stomach along with his aching fondness for her.

She watched as he crossed the room, resting a hand on his hip when he pressed close. Her eyes were dark and her mouth was entrancing. He followed the red tracing the shape of her lips with his eyes as she leaned forward, their noses almost touching, warm breaths mingling.

Her kiss stoked the fire in his belly, and he held her close to him as he kissed her a second and third time, wishing that he could feel her body through all of the cursed armour. He was breathing a little harder when she pulled back, and the touch of her hand on his neck made him shiver.

“You’ve been scattered all morning. Do you need something to focus on for a while?” She grinned wickedly, like something out of a fairy tale, and he was helpless to the force of her will. He fell to his knees.

Rosana only smiled more, delighted and dangerous. “Yes?”

He looked up at her. “Please.”

That was all the confirmation Rosana needed. She moved swiftly to a part of the counter not dusted with flour, pulling Hadrian along with a finger hooked in his gorget. She hopped up on the counter and he moved to kneel between her legs. He kissed every inch of her thighs he could reach as she pulled up her skirts, feeling the softness of her body under his touch.

It felt strange to kneel on the floor of his home in his armour, parting her outer lips with gloved hands. Somehow, the dulling of feeling outside of him heightened the internal sensation. The throb of his erection echoed through his whole body, his breaths like billows stoking the fire in his gut. The pleased sound his wife made when he ran his tongue wetly across her vulva was piercing and white hot, so hot it almost felt cold.

The sudden pull of Rosana’s hand in his hair was jarring.

“Look at me,” she said, then more sharply, “ _Look at me._ ”

When Hadrian’s glazed over look finally focused on her, the smile returned to Rosana’s immaculate red lips. She stroked her husband’s head.

“I want you to focus on me, love. If you start to get lost, I’ll pull you away again, alright?” Her voice was soft and all-encompassing, holding Hadrian in her sway without much effort at all. He nodded.

“Hm?” Rosana asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hadrian swallowed. “I will focus on you,” he managed. His voice was much more rough than he expected.

As soon as he said it, his face was pressed back into his wife’s cunt. He might have made a surprised noise, because he heard her laugh. Still, he had his assignment, and he was quite content to fill it.

Rosana leaned back on one hand as he licked between her folds, relaxing and angling her hips for better contact with his mouth. She moaned as he opened her with his tongue. She made much more noise when she played like this with him. It was a performance, but it wasn’t necessarily disingenuous, either. Hadrian guessed that sometimes she just wanted to be loud, kind of like sometimes she wanted to paint her lips in the morning.

Hadrian was only distracted from his ministrations when Rosana grasped for his hand. She took hold of the thick leather glove he was wearing and tugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. Then she had her mouth around his newly exposed fingers, and her hand in his hair tightened, demanding.

The sight of her when he looked up was overwhelming. Her body arched above him in soft powerful curves, one hand grasping his wrist and red mouth wrapped around his fingers. He muffled a groan in her body, closing his eyes against the painful throb of his arousal, but another was torn from him as his head was pulled back again.

Rosana’s eyes were like coals, and holding her gaze was almost painful, but the way she smiled when their eyes met was still worth it. She pressed his slicked fingers to her cunt and he took them the rest of the way, slipping them inside of her with surprising ease. She hummed low, rocking against his hand.

“Keep on with your mouth,” she growled.

She certainly didn’t need to ask twice.

She had been rough with him before, but now she fucked his face in earnest. It was all Hadrian could do to simply hold on for the ride, keeping the rhythm his wife had set. He was surrounded by her, skin and scent and heat. Any sound of the city outside was nothing to him now; all he heard was the sound of Rosana’s moans, short and breathy the way they got when she was close.

Not for the first time, Hadrian felt like he might just die.

But Rosana came, her hips thrust against his face and her fingers digging into his scalp, and he was still alive. She brought him shakily to his feet and spun them around so he was pressed against the counter and kissed him silly, and he was still alive, then, too.

Rosana kept kissing him, wet and elated and vicious, reaching under the layers of amor and mail and padding to undo the lacing of his breeches. Hadrian cried out in relief of her touch, and his wife left his mouth free to keep making that sound as she brought him off, kissing down his neck and under his collar and all across his face. He shook under her hands and her mouth, coming in streaks down her apron. 

As he came down, he searched for her mouth again, kissing her softly and deeply. “I love you, I love you,” he said with each kiss, earnest and a little bit hoarse.

“I love you too,” was Rosana’s reply, and they held each other in silence for a little bit after that.

Then, Hadrian remembered with a jolt what he had been doing. 

“I’m going to be late!” He exclaimed, slipping from behind his wife and bustling from one end of the kitchen to the other, not actually getting anything or doing anything, just panicking.

Rosana watched as he stopped and hurriedly did up his pants, rattling off his before-mission checklist. “Clothes? Clothes are at the barracks already, rations too, soap, did I shave?” He rubbed at his face experimentally. “Okay, good, mail and armour is on, boots, helmet is by the door, and– uh.” He stopped, noticing a smear of red on his hand. It took a second, but realization dawned on his face, his head turning to his wife. “Oh no, it’s everywhere isn’t it?”

Rosana giggled, and Hadrian saw that most of the vermillion she had painted on her lips was now gone– gone because it was now all on his face, painted slapdash across his lips and cheeks and neck. He started to rub at his face again, eyes darting for their wash basin, but Rosana stepped forward and grabbed his hand.

“No. Leave it.”

Hadrian didn’t even protest, just gaped for a second before his mouth clicked shut.

Rosana watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

“Okay.”

They smiled at each other, young and in love and totally giddy with this new part of the game. Hadrian stepped backwards slowly, turning back to the front door where the rest of his things were waiting.

“I love you,” Rosana called sweetly as he put on his helmet.

Hadrian smiled back at her. “I love you too.”

“Don’t forget to write.”

“I won’t.”

Hadrian put his hand on the doorknob, but couldn’t help himself. Quickly, he turned back to his wife, kissing her once, then again. He grinned at a bit of red still settled in the corner of her mouth.

Rosana laughed again, and pushed gently at him even though all he wanted to do was put his thumbs in her dimples and kiss her a third, fourth, fifth time. “Go, go, go,” she urged.

Hadrian did finally leave that time, sparing a glance for their house before breaking out into a run. 

When he finally made it to the church where the other members of the outgoing party were gathered, he was chided for his lack of composure, but if anyone saw the red smudge across his lips, or his obvious smile, no one said a word.


End file.
